


May Insanity Embrace Me with Open Arms, Says the Author.

by Anonymous



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games) RPF
Genre: Blindfolds, Cameras, Collars, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Gags, How many things can I fit on/in a person challenge, I think I’m the only one that think this is funny, M/M, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Shibari, Voyeurism, You are taking this seriously? Really?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: I don’t think I need a summary for this. No one’s reading it, anyways.
Relationships: Kojima Hideo/Reader
Kudos: 5
Collections: Anonymous





	May Insanity Embrace Me with Open Arms, Says the Author.

**Author's Note:**

> So insanity has brought me to this. Wonderful. I’m staying here.
> 
> This is just an experiment to see how many things I can fit on/into an person. I’m running out of ideas. Apparently people like porn more than family friendly stuff. Should’ve expected it, honestly.
> 
> Still can’t fathom that actual, real people find a middle-aged man with glasses sexy. As much of these as I write, I never understood why.
> 
> One Kojima a day? Twitter is entertaining as always.

Tick. Tick.

Darkness surrounds you, but it’s a calming one. There’s not a single noise, except for the occasional footsteps pacing slowly on your side. The sensations of ropes bounding you, and the fullness you feel from the turned-off vibrator, are the only things reminding you of your existence at all. With the blindfold and handkerchief tied around your mouth, you don’t have to do anything more than to exist. You take a deep breath and sag into the ropes suspending you in the air. It’s steady, as always. You are safe. He’s here for you, after all.

Tick. Tick.

You mind drifts to a new place, within the vacuum you’re floating in. You can’t help but wonder: what do you look like to an outsider? Knees spread wide to its limits, with arms around your back, tied with crimson red hemp rope running from your neck to your ankles with nothing left behind, including your cock and balls. A bright red collar dangles on your throat loosely, with a tag marking who you belong to.

To others, it must be too much even with just the rope. To him however, you are a piece of art. His art. One he so meticulously crafted with love and patience with a sprinkle of creative impulses, like he did with everything else he laid his hands on. 

Click. Click.

A camera shutter fires from the back. A few footsteps to your right, another shot. As this repeats around you in a circular motion, there’s only a tiny drop of panic, but it’s washed away with confidence and certainty. What’s an art piece for but to be shown off? There’s nothing to be worried about. In fact, it’s your only job, to be displayed and admired, even if there’s only one person. The only one that matters.

The footsteps stop in front of you, and a hand pets your hair softly. Fingers slides lightly onto your face, eventually cradling your jaw. You can feel the thumb worrying over your cheeks, and you lean into it as best you can. With your sight taken away, this simplistic gesture is taken to new heights, the sensation of it is heavier than usual. 

A disembodied voice whispers, “Good boy. You’re doing so well for me. I’ll be taking you off the suspension and onto the bed. Permission?” 

_ Oh, right. _ You gesture an OK sign with your hand, and he purrs in satisfaction. He moves to the back, and you feel ropes sliding around as your legs are released from its hold, one by one. Your feet touch the now unfamiliar carpeted floor, shaky from being tied up for a while, blood flowing quicker. A hand pushes you backwards on your chest, and your back bumps against a body. You hear the latch on your back open, releasing you from it. 

The effects of gravity hits as your knees crumble and drop, but another hand holds onto the knots on your back, steadying you. With two light taps on your chest, you take slow steps forward as he steers you from behind, until he orders you to stop. You spin around automatically with a gentle pull on your restraints, and strong hands guide your descent onto the mattress. 

You relax as he maneuvers your body on the bed, content to let he do as he wishes. It’s another part of the process, to be presented in a way that pleases him. He unties your hands, and moves it above your head, only for them to be tied up, again. You pull at it, only to find it stuck in place. A bedpost of some kind, perhaps? 

You feel your legs being pulled up and spread wide, and a snap of fingers captures your attention.

A hand teases up your inner thigh, “May I bind your legs again?”

After some consideration, you give another OK sign. “Thank you,” He says, giving your knee a kiss before you feel the mattress shift, and a rope slides up your thigh. The process is slow, sensual. Oftentimes you have the urge to buck up against nothing, but you wouldn’t dare to do it without permission. The vibrator makes sure of it. He is careful as always, checking in to make sure the knots aren’t too tight.

After the deed is done, you feel him shifting out the bed. He gives your forehead a kiss, “I’ll be back soon.” With that, he walks off a short distance, footsteps louder than usual. You wait in anticipation, and test the ropes on your legs. No limits on your thighs, but your knees are bound with no escape, but never too tight to the point of discomfort.

The bed dips again, heavier this time. “I’m here. Don’t worry.” Nothing happens for a while, until you hear the camera shutter clicking again. Another picture for the gallery. After the camera fires a few more times, you hear a slightly different click. Before you can think about about it, a vibration right against your prostate pulls a moan from your throat.

You instinctively try to close your legs together, but something is blocking their path. It’s him. He lodged himself in between your thighs, physically stopping you from closing them up.

Under the onslaught of pleasure and oversensitivity, you faintly hear that familiar click again.  _ Oh God. He’s taking pictures, of all the things he can be doing. _ You find yourself unable to care for long however, as you find yourself writhing, whining as you can’t cum with the rope wrapped fully around your dick, top to bottom. Your head thumps against the pillow, ready to call it quits before the vibration stops abruptly, leaving you breathless.

Just when you calmed down from that high with sweet nothings whispered into your ears, a finger swipes the exposed tip, and the vibration starts anew. You hump against nothing in frustration, and the vibration grows even stronger, before stopping again as you feel a nip on your neck.

You take deep breaths, bracing for the next wave of insanity.  _ This is going to be a long night. _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m tempted to stop it right here. The R34 and 35 quota has been filled.
> 
> This is the last work I’m gonna write, unless people want more for some reason. I’ve collected enough to summon the four horseman of the apocalypse.
> 
> Highly doubt that people actually reads these, but when my first work have nearly 100 hits, I start to question the common sense of these people. For the two person who consistently show up and comment, thanks. I appreciate it. Feels weirdly like making a friend.
> 
> Eh, leave a comment. Got nothing else better to do than to reply.


End file.
